Umbra Mortis Sedent
by Nohbdy Knows
Summary: In which the Doctor encounters someone unexpected... (and not in a happy sort of way) Set sometime shortly after "Waters of Mars"


**AN: I envision this particular bit of madness taking place sometime after "The Waters of Mars", because the Doctor's a little broken. :( And things aren't looking up anytime soon.**

She wasn't aware, the old woman, of the man watching her from across the street. She was focused solely on the painting, harder now, that Arthritis had begun to set in. Furrowing, contracting, and smoothing as she painted, the lines on her face told a story. A story of emotions, sorrow and anger and bitterness wrote themselves on her face. The man, leaning against an odd blue box, continued to watch. It wasn't the elderly woman catching his interest, it was the painting itself.

She was painting, and quite well, he wanted to add, and orange sky, with fields of red grass. In the distance of the painting, shown by some strategy unknown to him, were purple snow-capped mountains. In a word, it was home. He wanted, no, needed to know, if it were anything more than a random event. Cautiously approaching he stopped at the edge of her yard, thinking still in disbelief of her painting, and if, it was just a random occurrence, how cruel the universe could be.

"Hello," he almost whispered, but the old woman, most likely hard of hearing, didn't respond. He tried again clearing his throat, "Hello!" She turned around slightly so that she could see who was calling, spotting the man at the edge of her porch. She squinted observing, trying to remember if she knew him from somewhere. He was dark haired, tall, not particularly built, wearing brown work suit, a blue button up shirt, and a tie. His pale blue eyes watched her as she tried to place him, but failed. She couldn't comprehend a visitor, couldn't remember the last time she had one, living in the part of town that she did, all slums and graffiti covered walls. She lived alone, no friends, her neighbours at work for the day. She watched him come closer and she shifted back in her wheelchair.

"Uh, hi. I was just admiring this painting of yours. Very, er, nice colour choice."

She continued to look confused. She was usually so careful not to paint outside, but today, she couldn't remember why, so she'd gone out. Apparently, the reason had been to avoid conversing, or getting feedback on her work. She was immediately somewhat irritated with that tugging notion that told her to go back inside and forget the stranger on her porch. No, she wanted to yell at it, here she was finally, getting recognized and she wanted to go back for some reason? She struggled mentally for a few minutes before realizing the man was still awaiting a response.

"Well, thank you," the older woman smiled. The man took that as a cue to talk some more and decided to get on to the point,

"Do you know why you painted the sky orange, seems an odd choice."

She didn't know. That was her problem, all of her skies were orange, all of the fields red. She tried to explain once to the one potential buyer, but he'd backed off in a 'she has lost it' look. So she decided not to deter this one,

"No. Just did."

He nodded, "Wellll, was nice to meet you…?"

"Caroline. Caroline Doyard."

"Caroline," he smiled, "I'm the Doctor."

The woman briefly pondered the strange name as the man turned around and began to walk back from wherever he had come. And then for no reason at all that she could discern, she him the truth,

"Orange, I've always felt, was more at home in the sky," he turned back around and Caroline mentally kicked herself for saying anything at all. But he just smiled, and she couldn't help but notice his smile was so…attractive. What, whaat, whaaat was she thinking, he couldn't be more than 30, and she was nearly 84 years old. No. But, she wanted someone to talk to; she hadn't talked to anyone in such a very long time.

The Doctor heard the words, and he knew, he defiantly knew that it could just be anything really. But he still had to know, if she knew anything about what he could so clearly see her painting, because to him, it was home, Gallifrey. What he said was,

"I think so too."

With the man back on her porch she again fought herself off about kicking him out as far as she could get him; she was in a wheel chair after all. The regarded each other for a moment. Caroline put down her paint brush and did something she hadn't done in years,

"Would you like to come inside? I mean—it's not every day you meet someone who appreciates an orange sky."

"Eh, sure. Why not?" he smiled again and Caroline didn't know if he did it out of happiness or if it was just a natural reaction to everything.

He knew why he accepted the invitation in, because it was just sooo tempting to find answers, but a large part of knew he shouldn't be doing this. Young humans had short life spans; this old woman was soon to go. He watched her struggle with the door and he leaned over holding it open so she could wheel on through. Inside her house, he found many more paintings though out her walls, all of places within Gallifrey, and now he knew, at some point she had to know something, even if it was only subconsciously. She had wheeled herself off, into another room, claiming to be back shortly. The Doctor walked along the edges of her room, looking at the paintings, marveling at the details. He had to know, yet he already should, he thought frustrated with himself. Caroline called from behind him,

"I think I may have a minor fixation problem," she sounded slightly embarrassed, this was the first time anyone had seen all her paintings in the foyer, together. He just looked at her strangely, staring for a bit. The old woman stared back, confused. He spoke, and she barley heard as he asked,

"So, what inspires the paintings?" He looked earnest, and being the lonely elderly lady she was she would've answered anything to just stay, with someone, anyone, a little longer. And so she talked, which in all rights had been against every nature she'd ever known. She lifted at a chain around her neck, pulling out a small pocket watch hooked to it. She looked at it for a bit, and then said,

"I don't know what it is, but whenever I see the watch, I just get inspired," she looked up at the end, at the odd man who called himself 'the Doctor'. His eyes bore into the watch, and he finally looked back to Caroline. It was Gallifreian, he had no doubts. He spoke too quietly for her to hear,

"Impossible. Utterly and completely impossible," he paused noting her expression of fear, confusion. He spoke loudly enough for her to hear, but the words he both wanted to run from and desperately needed to say,

"Have you opened it?"

"Why? It's broken, poor old thing." She seemed about to tuck it back into her shirt when he caught her hand. He seemed afraid, and somewhat hopeful, she noticed as he kept her watch in the open. He gestured to the clasp,

"May I?" He, still in a despairing need to identify her, was going to see this through to the end. And if it turned out to be an ordinary watch, he would return it and never look back. He refused to let himself think about the other possibility. She tilted her head giving his hands room to remove the necklace. As he held the watch in his hands, he heard it softly at first, then louder calling, calling the woman. But she couldn't hear it. It was much too well hidden by the perception shield. The Doctor didn't know who he was about to bring back, but his mind was made up, if there was even the slightest possibility, that he wouldn't have to be alone, forever, he would take it. So he spoke, words that would change everything.

"You need to open it," desperation hitched his voice, Caroline saw the sadness, in his eyes, but she couldn't help wondering, what a watch would have to do with anything.

"Why?" Humans. Always so curious had to have everything explained in tiny bits, yet couldn't grasp it anyway. He envisioned Martha trying to get him to understand all those years ago and felt a sharp pang of guilt.

"Just…you'll understand when you do." He held it out to her.

Caroline was old, and rather confused; being said she was also incredibly curious. Spending her life being all but ignored, she reached forward and accepted the pocket watch. The doctor seemed to stop breathing.

"What will happen?" she asked, her desire to find out was growing rapidly, her watery blue eyes widening.

"Trust me, even if I tried to explain, you wouldn't understand."

"What if I did?"

"You wouldn't," a touch of annoyance crept into his voice.

Caroline sighed, the resigned sigh of an old woman, too old to argue a point like this against a young man. She fumbled with clasp, deciding that even if she died here, she'd lived long enough. The watch almost fell open in her hands, and she heard it, for the first time since she stored herself inside of it 80 years ago. It glowed with light that found its way into her. Her own memories came crashing back down on her soul. She wasn't human. She was a Time Lady.

And she was very, very cross.

"HOW DARE YOU!" She roared yelling, louder than she thought possible in this old woman's voice, causing a brief hacking fit. Her eyes burned with rage as she glared at the impudent Time Lord standing in front of her wheel chair. For his part the Doctor looked rather surprised. The old woman—Time Lady he self-corrected, almost in awe, was in some was exactly like he remembered his people, the fury he saw boiling under her blue eyes, for example.

She coughed again, "This body… so old. I'm going to die soon," she looked slightly calmer at the prospect of dying.

"You…you can't! I…Can't let you." The Doctor looked at her eyes pained. She couldn't leave him. Not so soon after he found her.

"Silly, silly Time Lords, think you can control everything. I'm going to die, before the rest of you can find me. Before they do worse," she leaned back in her wheel chair the lines on her face sagging. The Doctor, crestfallen, vowed internally, to make her stay, if only long enough to find out who she was. Of course, subconsciously he knew, he would want more than a few hours or days. He didn't want to be alone in the universe, not if he could help it.

"Caroline…should I still call you that?" he asked but didn't bother waiting for an answer before he began, as he knew he would to try and convince her to stay,

"They won't find you," his voice dropped and he looked unbearably sad, but the news was apparently the right bit, for she looked up in confusion.

"And why not? You did," her face was pensive and he couldn't tell if she believed his story or was simply awaiting death.

"Because…" his voice began to break and he breathed willing himself to find it again, "they're dead." He shut his eyes tightly wishing he would never need to explain this to anyone, ever again.

Caroline, or the Time Lady who had been Caroline, raised her eyebrows, "All of them? Hrmp. So, you're it than. Last of the Time Lords," she didn't know what to think. She wasn't about to be found and placed in the worst imaginable hell by the High Council? So now what? The Doctor simply nodded. Last of the Time Lords, it had been awhile, hearing that. He looked over at Caroline/Not Caroline, not quite true.

"So," he continued, "my question is, why didn't you die, like everyone else, why weren't you in the Time War." He swallowed thickly at that last bit. Time War, still made his hearts drop in his chest.

"Time War?" Caroline/Not Caroline asked, "I have no idea what you are talking about. I have been here 80 years, when I was, mmm… banished? Exiled? Something like that."

When he remained silent she pressed on, "Time War?"

He forced the lump in his throat down, oh how he loathed talking about it, "The last Great Time War. The Daleks and the Time Lords both trapped, both dead, destroyed."

"Destroyed? No, that isn't right someone always wins," as she looked up she noted the darkness in his eyes the scowl scorning his lips, and saw that the subject, however fascinating to her, was a touchy point on the last lord of time. And so he turned to her a question in his eyes, "Exiled?"

"Well, of sorts. I…" and she stopped. There wasn't need to go further. The Doctor didn't need to know what she had done.

"Who are you?" Great she thought to herself another question she never wanted to answer, ever. A shadow passed over her face and the Doctor caught the same emotions he saw her paint with that bitter angry look. The regarded each other again in silence neither quite knowing what to say or what to ask without causing the other incredible pain. But the difference between the Doctor and Caroline became strikingly evident as she opened her mouth, "I suppose, it is not so bad that they aren't around. I'd be worse that dead if they were." She said it calmly serenely, no smile, with just a hint of malice. The Doctor looked vaguely horrified,  
"Don't ever say that."

"Too late," but she was smart, smarter than anyone he'd come across in a long time. The last time being the Master. And then she knew, "You had something to do with it. The Time War, their deaths. I can see it in your eyes Time Lord. You were there."

He breathed a small sigh of relief, if that was a far as she could read, he'd be alright, "I was there." He confirmed, "The real question here is why weren't you?" He attempted to turn to focus off himself, the less she knew, the better. Maybe she wouldn't be smart enough to run from him, but another part of him, the better part, hoped she was.

She scowled darkly, "It doesn't matter. I will die soon anyway."

"Don't you understand, you don't need to die? No one will find you, because no one is looking. You could come with me," he swallowed harshly, hoping she wouldn't immediately refuse. Rassilion, it had always been so much easier with humans, they'd never seen the stars.

"Why would I do that? What is it that you do?" She looked up from her chair, blue eyes piercing blue.

"I, I'm the Doctor," he answered simply.

"Yes, we've been over that. What do you do Doctor?"

"I…" He wished so badly he had one of his companions here, they always had had confidence in him, the kind of person he was, "I travel time and space, and I try to help people."

"You help people."

"My companions," he looked down, it had been long time, almost 50 years from the last point he'd had a companion, "They would say I saved the world."

He watched her stoic reaction, and finally a hint of recognition, "I remember you! The Doctor, renegade mucking up of planets and universe." He still didn't know who she was.

"Yeah, uh… But it's..." he sighed, "The important question here, is who are you?" She looked about ready to respond, a touch angry too, but she fell from her chair to the ground seizing.

"Caroline!" The Doctor rushed to her side, "Your current body can't handle the DNA switch, you need to regenerate! Caroline…you can't die. I just found… I just found you. I don't want to be alone."

Caroline's body quit seizing and she lay dying, breathing laboured, "I shouldn't Doctor, if you knew any of what I've done, you wouldn't let me."

The Doctor reached down holding her hand, "I don't care. I can't be alone," a tear trickled down his face.

"I am a horrible," she gasped for air, "horrid thing. You need to let me die." It became clear she was hiding from her past as much as he was running from his.

"I can't," he whimpered clinging to her hand. She made no move to fix herself and he was barely abating the tears about to flow. No, not again. Not like the Master, he begged the universe. She wasn't even his enemy.

"Regenerate," the words forced themselves into the air. She lay there, breathing growing slower. "Please, no…no…" He pulled her nearly limp body to his chest. A soft exhale by the former Caroline as her heart sat motionless. She was gone. Just the same as everything else, quick to come and go, like the tides of an ocean, bringing in hope with the high tide and sorrow with the low. Tears streaked his face, not because he had known her well, merely due to the one constant of his life. The one shadow that followed him where everywhere he went. Death.


End file.
